Held
by The Evilest Regal
Summary: First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes baby, right? Wrong. The love was there, sure, but he's gone now. No time for marriage. She will never see him again. Now she's alone...and pregnant. But as time goes on, she comes to realize that she might not be as alone as she thinks.


**First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes baby, right? Wrong. The love was there, sure, but he's gone now. No time for marriage. She will never see him again. Now she's alone...and pregnant. But as time goes on, she comes to realize that she might not be as alone as she thinks. **

Authors note: this is by no means an outlaw queen fanfic. Yes, I ship them but let's be realistic here: he's probably not coming back anytime soon. That being said, this will focus on Regina and Emma's relationship. Is it full blown SwanQueen? Currently no. But things can change.

Also, I have a bad habit of starting stories and not finishing them. I will try my hardest to not add this one to that category. I'll update when I find time. Disclaimer: I own nothing. All rights to the wonderful creators and producers of Once Upon a Time.

**Held**

No. No, this isn't happening. She refuses to believe it is. It can't be. Okay, well it could, the logical part of her reasons. But no, there is absolutely nothing logical about what is happening. This isn't supposed to be possible, she's sure of it. Well, was sure of it. Now she's not so certain. Because despite her previous assumptions, looking down on the little thing in her shaking hand contradicts everything she thought possible. Flips her whole world upside down. Next thing she knows, people will start telling her that red is actually blue and "what ever do you mean? of course money grows on trees!" She breathes deeply because clearly these are irrational thoughts. But there is absolutely nothing clear about this situation and oh my God this cannot be happening. But it very well could be. It could also very well be wrong, she grasps. There is a slight possibility that this conclusion is simply a rare malfunction. Rare, but not impossible.

However, it would explain the symptoms she's feeling. And why she's late. Very late. She had marked it up to stress, usually that was the cause of her inability to have a normal menstrual cycle, but this was a bit too long. Plus the sickness. Nausea(not extreme but enough to throw her off kilter),fatigue(even more than usual), slight cramping(could easily be passed for the beginning of period cramps), and just a general feeling of something being off. Not quite right. She tries to stay calm, lowering herself into a chair she had previously placed in the corner of the cramped room. She crosses and uncrosses her legs, sucks in short gasps of air. But dammit, damn it all to hell because nothing is working. She can't remain calm, can't bide her time and twiddle her thumbs. She has to do something. And she jumps up from the seat in a mad blur, finding her purse and grabbing the desired object from it and flinging it back on the bed. She's pressing the second number on her speed dial and then it's ringing and she has it pressed up to her ear before she knows what she's doing. And she's struggling to make her voice sound at least halfway calm because God knows she hates showing her discomfort, even if it's eating her alive.

"Hello?" The voice is her anchor, and she grabs it and doesn't let go, basks in the warmth it provides her with, however brief.

"Emma," she manages, and it's barely a whisper but it's the best she can do with sobs climbing up her throat and forcing their way out of her mouth.

"Regina?" and there it is again, that lovely voice that wades through the murky mess that is her thoughts and it's sobering her up, pulling her up with it as it rises like hot air.

"Talk to me," she commands because she needs more, of what she's not certain but she needs to hear someone's voice before she loses it altogether.

"Regina are you okay?" But no, no, this is not what she needs, not alarmed questions. She needs reassurance, a sense of normality perhaps, but definitely not this. And she frantically shakes her head, knowing that the blonde can't possibly see her but shaking it anyway.

"Please, Emma," her voice is stronger this time, a little raspy and low, but stronger "Just talk to me." But apparently not strong enough because the next words out of Emma's mouth are certainly not what she wants to hear, but beggars can't be choosers.

"Where are you?" There's the faint jingle of keys on the other end and she sighs, having half a mind to protest because she really does not want the savior to see her in this state. Emma seems to sense this. "Where are you, Regina?" This time firmer, demanding, and Regina sighs again, not having the energy to pick a fight with the stubborn blonde when in hindsight, Emma's probably right anyway.

"Vault," she grumbles and not a second later she hears the blonde's death trap roar to life.

"Hang in there okay?" Emma says, and she seems to finally understand Regina's need for soothing words. "Breathe Regina, everything is gonna be okay."

"You don't know that," the pessimist that is the brunette argues. And although she would never admit it, she draws comfort in the loaded reassurance the blonde has just offered. She revels in it, picks it apart and dissects it, the words slowly seeping into her addled brain.

"I know that you're going to be okay, Regina. You've been through tough shit, and whatever this is, it's not going to be the thing that breaks you. I won't let it." It's working, slightly, and she slowly feels her heart relenting and slowing, not so frantic and no longer threatening to break out of her chest. She sucks in air through her nose, closes her eyes.

"Okay," she whispers, to herself or to Emma she's not sure. She walks slowly back to the chair and sits down once more. Emma's coming. Emma says it's going to be okay. No, maybe she doesn't know the full gravity of her situation, but she trusts Emma. She doesn't know why, but she trusts the blonde more than anyone, although she would never tell her that. She's not overly fond of feelings she can't understand. "I'm okay."

"You're okay," the blonde echoes her words and cements them in her very being. "I'm pulling up. I'll be right there." And true to her words, she's swinging the door to the vault open and rushing to Regina's side in a matter of seconds.

Regina lifts her eyes to meet the blonde's green ones, and she falls apart all over again. The tears are rushing to the surface, flowing down her cheeks, and she's helpless to stop them. Emma places a hand on her back and rubs soothing circles, not uttering a word with exception to the occasional shh or it's okay, to which Regina is explicitly grateful. She couldn't speak right now if she desired to. She doesn't know how long they stay like that, her hunched over her knees on the chair and Emma hovering over her. The tears come to a gradual halt and she wipes the traces of them from her cheek.

"I'm sorry," she says feebly, almost defeated and certainly ashamed. She was once Queen, the name whispered in fear and spoken almost as a threat to little children at night who wouldn't eat their vegetables, and here she was, in a crumpled heap, crying under the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming of all people.

"It's okay," she says again, dragging a chair from the other side of the room next to the one Regina is currently seated in. She plops down next to her, and with the wave of her hand, offers the Queen a box of moisturized Kleenex tissues.

"It's really not," Regina admits in a breathy laugh, plucking a tissue from the box and wiping under her eyes. She won't meet those green eyes that are seemingly drilling into her soul, she can't bring herself to.

"What happened?" The question is voiced loosely, so as to allow Regina to squirm her way out of giving a direct answer if she so wished. She's thankful for that, for the blonde's consideration of her pride. Well, whatever' left of it anyway.

"I learned something," she begins, picking and choosing her words carefully. Although she supposes there isn't a right way to admit this. "I think...well maybe that I-I um..." And once again she's stumbling over her damn words and she feels an overwhelming urge to double over and just give up, but she can't cry in front of Emma again(though she's sure Emma wouldn't utter a word of this to anyone, this very conversation would remain confined in the four walls.)

"I think...I might be pregnant," the words come rushing out, and wow, is it a relief to finally say them aloud, to put the possibly out in the open instead of relentlessly ricocheting around in her mind. And suddenly she's afraid, well more afraid, because what will Emma think? But then she scolds herself, because she has never been a woman to care about what others think of her and she damn sure isn't starting today.

"Wait..." Emma starts, furrowing her eyebrows. She shakes her head, seeming to try to clear it, to understand. "Are you sure?"

"I..." Regina begins, but doesn't know the answer to that. "I don't know...I mean, I took one of those tests you get at the store but I heard they can be wrong."

"False positives, yeah, but they're rare," Emma agrees, still trying to process everything, but then sees the way her words make the brunette slouch a little lower and sigh, and she's quick to amend, "but we can't know for sure until you've had an appointment."

"Oh God," she says, furrowing her brows and burying her face in her hands. "I don't...I can't do this Emma."

"Everything is going to be o-"

"No! Don't say it's going to be okay when it's not," she exclaims, tears pooling in her eyes again. "I cannot be a mother to a baby. He just left and I was just starting to be okay, starting to at least try to live my life again, and now this?! If I have his baby, it's just going to be a reminder of everything I've lost." She sighs and takes another tissue, wiping her nose and not even bothering with the tears. She's past caring. "I'm alone. I don't have anyone." The words echo off the four walls louder than she intends them to, followed by a seemingly louder silence.

"You have me," the savior replies after a pause, her voice soft yet firm, a sweet contradiction. Regina scoffs.

"Emma..." she begins, shaking her head and a sad smile falls over her lips as does the shadow that eclipses her features, "I know you believe that. But you have your parents. You have our son, you have that pirate," and you can't really blame her for the grimace that the name elicits, "hell, you have the whole damn town to take care of. You have more important things to worry about than me."

Emma shakes her head, mirroring Regina's sad smile. "Why do you do that?" And it's Regina's turn to be confused, because do what? "Constantly belittle yourself and call yourself unworthy. When are you going to get it in your head that I'm on your side? That I am your friend. I am in your corner Regina. I'm going to fight for you and be there for you." She lets the words hang in the air a moment longer. "Because that's what friends do."

The queen ducks her head, shaking it softly. "I... Thank you," she manages, because in that moment she lacks anything more to say than that. She's touched, genuinely touched. She's never had a true friend before.

"Don't mention it," Emma shrugs. "Now back to more pressing matters..." Regina sighs and unconsciously wraps her arms around her stomach, leaning forward slightly.

"What am I going to do?" she's asking because honestly, she doesn't know. She hasn't the slightest clue what to do in this situation.

"Well, we need to make you an appointment with Whale an-"

"No," she says firmly, effectively cutting off the savior.

"No?"

"Not Whale."

"Regina, he's the only OB/GYN in Storybrooke..." but Regina is having none of this, and she lets Emma know as much.

"You don't understand, Emma. What he did to me..I can't..." She's shaking her head frantically and the corners of Emma's mouth turn downward. "I can't let him near my baby..." and she seems to catch herself before adding "if there even is one." She breathes in deeply through her nose and squeezes her eyes shut, curling and uncurling her hands, and she remembers. She remembers that night years ago, when she was young and terribly naive, too innocent for her own good. She remembers clinging to the man with the black hat who she would later come to build a testy relationship with. She remembers hoping, hoping against all odds that whatever science the man was doing inside the tent would be enough to bring her love back to her. She remembers the pain she felt when her heart broke all over again when he came out of the tent and gave his condolences. And then she remembers, years later, coming to find out that it was all a lie. The man with the hat and the doctor who had enticed her with possibilities were frauds. He was never going to bring Daniel back. The only thing he wanted to do was break her. Break her so that Rumpelstiltskin could mold her into his own personal monster. And how very broken she was.

"Hey," Emma says, snapping Regina out of the daze, and she ducks her head so she can meet the brunette's gaze. "I will not let him hurt anyone. Not you. Not your baby." She grips Regina's arm, squeezing it reassuringly. "I promise. But you have to let him check you out, okay?" Regina just furrows her brow, contemplating, so Emma pushes on. "I'll be there with you the whole time." The brunette cuts her a side glance, pursing her lips before sighing softly.

"Fine," she relents, earning a small smile from the other woman.

"Good," she replies, pushing herself to her feet and offering the brunette a hand. "Let's go."

"Wait, now?" Regina asks, huffing a small puff of air out her mouth.

"Trust me, the sooner you find out, the better you'll feel," she responds easily, and rolls her eyes when Regina ignores her offered hand, opting to use the arms of the chair to push herself up.

"Okay, let's just get this over with."

"Good, I'll drive," Emma says, following her out of the vault. And Regina must be pretty damn exhausted after all. She doesn't even argue.


End file.
